Twas The Morning Of
by eilatansayah
Summary: Aaron scowled. "I said 'let's stay at yours' last night."


**Thank you everyone for reading my fiction. Its been amazing receiving all the positive feedback throughout the year.**

**Merry Christmas to you all. **

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><p>The sounds clambering their way through the floorboards were the unfriendly 'welcome to the world' greeting that Aaron received upon waking. Actually, it was these horrendous noises that did the waking. He lay, panicked, the sound vibrating around his head. He twisted slightly, as if trying an evasive maneuver, and pulled the cover up over his head. A low groan sounded next to him. The noise from downstairs intensified. Strange vocalisations competed with the original offensive sound. It was like an assault, the battle crescendo performing a direct attack on the ears. Another groan came from nearby. Aaron yanked down the duvet and jolted into a sitting position. He looked around wildly as if finding himself in the middle of a nightmare. The groan sounded once again, this time louder. It was coming from the mound beside him. This fabric hill, shaping the bed covers, would be unrecognisable had it not been for the single hand clawing at the duvet edge. The assault continued from downstairs. It filled every inch of the room. The walls seemed to pulsate with the steady beat of a baseline.<p>

Aaron slapped an aggressive hand down on the lump and then leaned in to shove at it. The muffled 'hey!' was not the response he wanted. He pushed harder and kicked out his foot a little, impacting with what he guessed was a shin bone. "Aaron." The cover jerked down and the stunned, half-asleep expression on Jackson Walsh's face glared back at him. "What the hell was that for?" Jackson's head lay below the pillow line against the mattress, the covers sat beneath his chin. He looked like a bewildered floating head.

"This is your fault!"

"What." Jackson's voice was thick with sleep. The noises switched and slowed, yet still kept their intensity. The voice that accompanied them continued with the same tuneless gusto as before. Aaron scowled. "I said 'let's stay at yours' last night." Jackson's hand crept up from the quilt, breaking the illusion of a floating head and rubbing aggressively at his eyes. His hand swiped across his gentle brown curls and he blinked rapidly. "Yeah, well, I didn't know it would be this bad."

"I did. I even told you. But you wanted to stay here." There was no smugness tinting Aaron's words, he was utterly annoyed. Jackson wormed his body, wiggling upwards until his head was resting against the pillow. He was blearily rubbing at his face. In his defence, he did look completely apologetic. "How long will Paddy's singing go on for?"

"All morning."

"And the Christmas tunes?"

"All morning."

This was a tradition of Paddy's. Christmas, his birthday, Aaron's birthday, Easter, football games, it didn't matter what the occasion was, he'd still wake the entire village with his debauched vocal atrocities. Aaron had lived here for nearly three years. He still couldn't get used to it. Aaron remained sat up, one leg bent in front of him, the other curled behind. This kept him balanced into the upright position on his overly soft mattress. Jackson reached out a hand and stroked Aaron's knee. "I'm sorry." Aaron gazed down at his boyfriend, watching Jackson's groggy expression as his other arm folded behind his head. "Next year, I promise, we can stay at mine."

"Who says we'll be together then." It was said as an empty, half-arsed threat and Jackson just ignored the eye-balling and the sullen tone that was never far from Aaron's words. "Fine then,_ If_ we're together, we can stay at mine." Jackson had insisted that they spend last night at Smithy cottage, saying it was tradition to wake up in the house where they were spending Christmas. They'd bickered about it on and off for a few days but, it was mostly a futile expenditure of time because, of course, Jackson would win. Jackson always won. Aaron started to notice this pattern a while ago. It could be anything, like inviting Chastity out for a meal, or meeting Jackson's friends, or trying a new thing. Jackson would insist on doing it. Aaron would dig his heels. Jackson would win. The music stopped abruptly. Aaron and Jackson jerked, their eyes widened as if shocked by a sudden deafness. In its place, they heard the low tones of Rhona telling Paddy off. Jackson grinned up, his mouth widening to that of a Cheshire cat, intimating that, in some way, he'd been responsible for the silence. Aaron scowled.

"Aaron?" Jackson's grin remained and his thumb began to gently rub circles against Aaron's thigh. "What?"

"Can you lie down, please, the warm air is escaping the bed." Aaron had the duvet pulled up around his shoulders, causing it to slip down to Jackson's waist. Aaron noted the warm coloured tinge to his boyfriend's perfect skin. It was the twenty-fifth of December and the man had slept with nothing but boxers. Jackson never wore much to bed. He made a stupid claim that his natural body temperature was a few degrees higher than most people's and so, even in the middle of winter, he didn't wrap up. "Maybe you should put some clothes on." Jackson stretched out his limbs slightly, contorting. "Maybe you should take some _off._" His words were slightly lost within a yawn. Jackson liked skin on skin, even when merely sleeping. He said it was sexier. Aaron always wore a t-shirt over jogging bottoms and a pair of thick socks. The two of them would increasingly fight, in particular about that last item of clothing. Jackson hated the feeling of the woollen material scrapping his legs during the night. Aaron hated cold feet. He glared at Jackson. He spent a lot of his time doing that.

"Are you going to lie back down?"

Aaron cocked an eyebrow. "_Yes_." He moved slowly as if it was his idea all along. He shifted down. Taking his time, like a gentleman in a top hat, pondering at the display through a gift shop window. Jackson wore a tiny knowing smile, watching Aaron. His eyes were lit with a mischievous glint. He always got his way. Aaron ignored him. Jackson waited until Aaron was settled, glimpsing his movements from the corner of his eyes. Once still, Jackson turned on his side. It was done exaggeratedly and inelegantly, as if he were a terrible weight that had to be thrown over. The motion caused Aaron to rock on the unnecessarily soft mattress. Jackson's head landed on Aaron's pillow, invading his space, and he grinned again.

Aaron tried to keep a straight face.

No one ever made Aaron smile the way Jackson did. It wasn't in any way an easy achievement. Aaron had an ingrained tendency to frown rather than smile. He'd fight rather than forget, he'd panic rather that ask for help, and cry alone instead of in the arms of another. All these things were slowly changing, like an ice sculpture melting. Or a pot of boiling water, slowly cooling. Aaron was calmer now than ever before, he was satisfied, he felt safe. Aaron wondered at himself sometimes. He continued to try to keep a straight face. Jackson twisted a finger towards the corner of Aaron's lips. He poked gently at the edge, trying to curl them upwards. Aaron chomped his teeth, startling the finger and making it jerk away. The pair of them laughed. Things _were_ slowly changing.

The music started up again, this time not quite as loud. The singing didn't show the same consideration. The pair of them groaned loudly, the sound being more pleasant than the racket going on downstairs. Aaron rolled over onto Jackson's torso, pressing his face into the crook of Jackson's neck. "Make it go away!" Jackson yelled as half his limbs wrapped Aaron's full length, holding him tight. It did little to prevent the current earache. The music stopped, once again followed by Rhona's words. Aaron pulled away, Jackson still circled him. The pair of them laughed.

The music started up again.

The music stopped.

Both stilled in a tableau of apprehension. Their brows rose inquiringly. "Who do you think will win?" whispered Jackson. It was hardly a question to be debated at parliament. "Rhona," Jackson answered himself. Aaron just nodded, lips pursed together, hoping their assertion was correct. They waited and then no music followed. No tuneless notes carried. Aaron barely dared to lower his head. They lay, Aaron's cheek rested against Jackson's chest. There was trepidation in both their frames, a stillness whilst they scanned for noise. They looked like a couple of children hiding under the bed from impending monsters. If they moved first, then they might get found.

Jackson was the first to dare speak, "I think she won."

"Me too." He started absently trailing a thumb along Jackson's side. Jackson tightened his hold. Their soft breaths mingled together and unified. They lay there like a single being. The music remained silent. "Good morning, by the way." Aaron sleepily snorted, the quiet was a comforting embrace, inviting him to close his eyes and drift off. The warm smell of Jackson was invading his senses. "Good morning," he dozily replied.

The music remained silent

"Aaron?" Jackson's soft lips pressed against Aaron's crown.

"Mmm?"

"Merry Christmas."


End file.
